


The Last Night

by Ellepige



Series: Bloodborne Ficlets [1]
Category: Bloodborne (Video Game)
Genre: Body Horror, Canon-Typical Violence, Drug Use, Fictional Religion & Theology, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Lost Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Minor Character Death, OC Black Church Hunter Ianus, OC Renegade Hunter Kramer, Other, Pain, Regret, Sad, Self-Sacrifice, Suicidal Thoughts, Transformation, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-09
Updated: 2018-03-09
Packaged: 2019-03-29 00:57:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13915959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellepige/pseuds/Ellepige
Summary: Two former comrades meet in the unending night of the hunt.





	The Last Night

**Author's Note:**

> Hey!  
> I'm writing this mostly to vent, so it's kinda sad and very emotional. The OCs belong to me (Kramer) and a close friend (Ianus) and they have been through a lot in various universes, now I've decided to let them roam Yharnam for a while. No spoilers for Bloodborne's story, but some hints at my headcanons regarding the Old Blood. If you want to talk about this, feel free to leave me a comment or drop a message, I always appreciate it!

Yharnam is a beautiful city, even at night. I fondly remember times that now seem long lost, evenings spent in the shadows of new and ancient buildings, lazy afternoons at the marketplace, the smell of freshly baked bread and sweet apples mixed in with the omnipresent street dirt and the oil of the lanterns. Even now, when I wander the streets in almost complete darkness, my hand lantern as the only source of light, I sometimes imagine the smell I used to link with the city.

Before everything turned to ashes.

We've been there, back then. We've lost our humanity side by side, partially even before we saw Old Yharnam burn to the ground. I wonder if you remember the cries of the people as I do. I think I saw you shiver back then, saw your lips move in a silent prayer to Oedon, but it might as well have been a silly wish of mine. If our gods feel compassion, they must be weak. If they don't, and I am sure that this is the case, then they are even bigger monsters than the ones roaming the streets of our home.  
Tonight, the stench of incense makes me retch. It's thick, almost oily smog that burns in my eyes and on my tongue, it clings to my worn robes during the days, steals its way into my dingy hideout and into my dreams. I dream of the hunt. 

I know I am changing. Nothing I can do about it, except of keeping my gun loaded. I can only hope that I'll find the point of no return. That I'll be brave enough to pull the trigger when it arrives.  
Did you see it coming?  
You've always been the more pious man. Back when we both were novices you told me not to get drunk, not to waste my time with the harlots of the lower city. I never asked you about your past, never heard your story, but I remember your voice, soft and low, when I stumbled home, reeking of cheap perfume and even cheaper alcohol.  
I also recall your other voice, the agitated, hungry one. The one trying to coax me to partake in our holy communion more frequently. The one that held endless sermons about how close you got to God. The one that insisted you saw things, when all you did was blind yourself even further. I ran, but sometimes, this voice still haunts me. 

Tonight, my steps are heavy. I can hear my bones move around in my flesh. My fingers crack whenever I grab my saw cleaver too tightly, or is it the wood of the handle that I'm hearing? I'm numb to pain, for a while now. I can't feel the belt that hugs my right leg, can't feel the rotten and ruined tissue underneath the leather. The Beast travels up the right leg. It might be some sort of stupid legend. It might grant me one night or two until I have to leave. I only need this one night.  
I can see that you're not the man I used to know. A stranger might not have been able to see the differences for now, but I've watched you for years. On the one hand I wish I hadn't. I wish you'd be just another contorted face to me, that would make it easier. On the other hand I'm glad that I still know you. I can be sure I ended your suffering or that you ended mine. Whatever will happen. It's hard, but I was never one to go the easy way. 

The moon is beautiful. Big and bright, even though it's only a small sickle hanging low in the sky. It enhances the slender lines of your body, barely concealed by flowing black fabric. The way you move is odd, too smooth, insect-like. My heartbeat quickens, as if my body realizes the presence of another predator. I try to prepare myself as I see you turn around. I fail, falter for a second before I can will a smile on my face. Are you still able to see that? I start to have trouble recognizing faces and expressions.

It's not my brother I see. It isn't the monster I wished for. Your eyes are almost the same, but the pupils are wide, with a frayed seam, the brown of your iris tints the white a darker color. There is the small scar on your lips, the faint hint of beard. It's almost entirely covered by slick blood and saliva. I want to apologize. Not for my intention to kill you, but for interrupting an intimate moment. The monster at your feet twitches, snarls pathetically before it falls victim to your blunt weapon. Bone shards and brain liquid stain the ground, but you don't even look at it, instead, you turn your attention to me.

"I did not expect you."  
I can't help it, I chuckle before I answer. My hand is calm, but the snap of the cleaver's mechanism breaks the silence. I need some room, need to keep you at a distance if I want to stand a chance.  
"Giving up never suited me."  
"You smell awful. You need to rest, Kramer."  
"Looked in the mirror lately?"  
You huff, bare your fangs through gore-encrusted lips. "I know what I'm doing. I... gave this to our people, willingly. I'm offering my being for their good."  
"You really believe that, huh?"  
"It's the truth. You can't hear it, but I do. I'm chosen. A martyr for the greater good. You're rotten, but you can still repent."  
"I've always been rotten to you, Ianus. Would be a waste to change that now, after I had fun with it for years."

You seem to remember your name, I see you press your lips together. And I take my chance, as you do. We clash halfways and the force of our collision forces the air out of my lungs. Blood and fabric stick to the serrated blade of my weapon, I can hear you howl and notice that the deep, animalistic pants are in fact my breaths. You're faster and stronger, so I reach out for another blood vial and force it into my system. The colors bloom back into my usually monochromatic world, the stench of beast and incense becomes overbearing.

Tonight, it is going to end.


End file.
